


Oils and Acrylics

by soumise



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, age is only implied, sehuns like mid 30s whilst jongins early 20s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5325101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soumise/pseuds/soumise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oh Sehun meets Kim Jongin, he thinks he's found the most valuable piece of art for his collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oils and Acrylics

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this [prompt](http://exopromptmeme.livejournal.com/16115.html?thread=7661299#t7661299) on the epm.

The night air is still hot, typical of summer, the kind of pressing humidity that’s inescapable even with air conditioning. Sehun’s starched shirt sticks unevenly to his back beneath his suit jacket, sweat on the far side of uncomfortable where it itches on his skin. He ignores the heat in favour of the swirl of colour on the canvas in front of him, hands curling around the do not touch sign in front of him, fingers desperately aching to feel the rough, bold strokes of acrylic on canvas that’s wider than his outstretched arms. He thinks he might buy it. It’s just the right mix of organised thought and wild, palpable emotion to keep it visually pleasing but still raw. It looks like it’ll be expensive before he even thinks of asking for a starting price.

Around him, people buzz, the sound of them enough to know they’re here more to boast money than to admire the art work. Sehun would be annoyed but he can’t really blame them. The walls drip with a tasteful mixture of art and sheer opulence, just as the pretty things that hang on people’s arms look more like well thought-out sculptures than actual human beings. He takes a glass of champagne from the pillar of a waiter standing near his arm and takes a long mouthful, still looking at the canvas before turning away.

He mingles carefully, slipping in and out of groups of people with enigmatic smirks and gentle touches on forearms. He’s deliberately charming, turning it on full like a dimmer switch. He’s one of the most successful businessmen in the country, people know his name, and he knows they do.

The boy has his back to him when Sehun notices him. He’s one of few standing in front of the paintings on the wall, and Sehun stays still to carefully inspect him, fingers curling by his sides to hold onto the tiny do not touch signs in his palms. He assesses the way broad shoulders taper to a slim waist, emphasised by the white shirt tucked smoothly into his slacks. His hand carries his suit jacket in confident apathy, casual in the strung atmosphere of the room. He’s so drawn to the sheer beauty of the boy without even seeing his face it startles himself a little. Sehun contemplates walking away.

And then the boy turns.

He blinks and his eyes are on Sehun, and Sehun’s standing in a group of people but he forgets in the agonising second that the boy’s eyes drop from his, fall down his body and back up, shamelessly checking him out. The boy smirks, a twitch of one side of his lips that Sehun watches and documents the same as he would a perfect brush stroke on canvas. In the next moment he licks his lips and the action is so devastatingly sexual Sehun can practically feel a cord around his waist pulling him forwards.

They don’t go directly to each other. They circle each other like pacing predators, slipping between groups of people but watching each other. Sehun just devours the way the other radiates sex and confidence, easy grins and teasing flicks of his hips. They meet in a group, and Sehun speaks first, smirks for himself and holds his hand out, ‘I don’t believe we’ve met. Oh Sehun.’ Their hands clench for just a second too long, the boy dragging his fingertips over Sehun’s palm as he pulls his hand back, leaving Sehun’s skin buzzing.

‘Kim Jongin. It’s a pleasure.’ Sehun resists biting his lip at the purr of Jongin’s voice. Jongin doesn’t resist dragging his teeth across his own lip.

 

They end up tumbling into the back of Sehun’s car, Jongin pressing up against Sehun’s chest and sucking on his neck desperately. Sehun’s chauffer doesn’t speak, closes the partition and rolls the car from the front of the hotel. He tastes like champagne when Sehun kisses him, hands in Jongin’s hair to feel the wax mess the style beneath his fingers, Jongin moving to straddle one of Sehun’s legs and clutch at his shoulders. They get tossed about a little with the movement of the car, but neither can seem to drag themselves away from the other. It’s a little fuelled by alcohol and a lot fuelled by the need Sehun feels every time he looks at Jongin to just feel him, feel such art beneath him.

They don’t even notice the car has stopped until the partition rolls down and Sehun’s chauffer looks over into the back, voice still professional, ‘Sir. We have arrived.’ Jongin rolls off Sehun enough for him to reply with a strained sounding thanks before he’s staggering out the car with Jongin gripping onto the back of his suit to follow. The door of the building is held open by a footman, and Sehun knows he’s supposed to tip but Jongin’s caught up with him enough to press against him, walking behind Sehun with a hand on the front of his belt.

Sehun presses the lift to the penthouse, a master of restraint with the way Jongin is panting behind him but he’s sober enough to think that he doesn’t want to have sex in an elevator. Jongin grips back on, mouth on Sehun’s ear, tongue teasing up the shell as his hand wanders along the front of Sehun’s slacks. Sehun curls his fingers into the short sides of Jongin’s hair, holding his face against his side as Jongin grinds messily into his hip. He’s so beautiful Sehun thinks, not for the first time since they got into the elevator, and he finds his eyes watching Jongin in their reflection on the matt metal doors, dark skin and dark hair and stunningly on the cusp between submissive and forward.

Suddenly Jongin breaks away and presses his face into Sehun’s shoulder, giggling softly. The sound startles Sehun and he jerks away a little, Jongin chasing the space, still laughing, snorting into the skin of Sehun’s neck. It’s adorable and so obviously more drunk than Sehun had thought he was.

‘They call you sir.’ He manages between giggles, and Sehun smiles, suddenly and inappropriately affectionate towards his one night stand.

‘They call me sir.’ He affirms, and kisses the edge of Jongin’s mouth, laughing a little himself.

The change from elevator to Sehun’s bed is dizzyingly fast. They go tripping across the apartment as Jongin pulls Sehun’s shirt and dumps it behind him, letting Sehun press him against his bedroom door to messily tongue into his mouth and leave Jongin to find the handle to open the door. It’s uncoordinated as they fall into Sehun’s bedroom, Sehun tugging his slacks off, pulling underwear with them. Jongin strips on the edge of Sehun’s bed, lying back naked when he’s done, hands over his head and eyes closed. Sehun crawls over him, kisses his tense calf, the sensitive skin on the back of his knee, the blush of his shoulder and his parted lips. He licks down his neck and savours the feel of the shift in muscles beneath his mouth. He hoists Jongin’s legs around his waist and rolls his hips into the curve of Jongin’s erection.

He presses a bottle of lube to Jongin’s hand and Jongin lather’s Sehun’s fingers for him, using the power of his thighs to roll them over, guiding Sehun’s hands to stretch himself. The sight is unlike anything Sehun could have imagined, Jongin’s muscles taut as he moves Sehun’s fingers within himself, stretching the tight muscles with little hiccuping breaths. Sehun can barely tear his eyes from how magnificent the boy is. When he sinks onto Sehun’s cock, he throws his head back, bares his throat and chest for Sehun’s hands on his body, letting the other map him in all his careful reverence. It’s too intimate for casual sex but Sehun calls him beautiful and every time he does Jongin gasps wonderfully, driving his hips down harder. He nods and whispers for more, more words, more touches, more. Sehun has never had sex with someone like Jongin, drags his tongue up to meet the bead of sweat that rolls down the other’s chest, and thinks Jongin is art.

Sehun leans forward, sits up against the headboard of his bed to sink further into Jongin, curl his fingers around his throat and stroke along the skin, feel the life beneath his palms. Jongin bounces in his lap, fingers gripping Sehun’s shoulders for leverage. Sehun runs his fingers from his throat to his chest, rubbing the heel of his palm into the perked rise of his nipples to see the way Jongin’s jaw falls open, gasping in lungfuls of air. When he curls his hand on Jongin’s erection, Jongin’s palms push him down, falling back onto the bed to thrust unevenly upwards and jerk Jongin off with reverent hands.

Jongin comes and just the sight of it has Sehun following. The boy curls in on himself when he orgasms, hands clutching at Sehun’s chest, head hanging between his shoulders. Sweat damp hair hangs over his face, chest heaving and thighs quivering, Sehun’s dick softening inside him. He looks at Sehun through his eyelashes, dark eyes fluttering slightly, still glazed as he pants softly. When he rolls over, he curls up in Sehun’s bed and lets Sehun clean himself with tissues from his bedside, lets Sehun clean release from between his thighs and lets Sehun drag his fingers over his cheekbones and whisper for a final time affirmations of his beauty against his hair.

 

When Sehun wakes, he’s slightly groggy, turning onto his back to press the heels of his palms into his eyes. The curtains are left open from last night and light pours bright and cruel into the room, too intense for Sehun. He stumbles naked from his bed to the window, pulls down the blinds to half way, colours the room in the soft pink that peeks from behind the wood of his blinds. Jongin is still in his bed. Sehun thought he’d be gone by now, had guessed that Jongin would have snuck out the door to never see Sehun again. It would be what Sehun had expected of the boy he had taken home last night. He stands in the warm glow of morning sun on his heels and contemplates Jongin sleeping. The way the boy from last night had promised a good time in his slow smirks and hooded eyes is nothing on the boy who dozes on Sehun’s white sheets.

Sehun picks sweats from a drawer and slips them on commando, careful not to wake Jongin. He sleeps with his mouth slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed slightly, curled around the space Sehun left and clutching his pillow. It’s painfully innocent, Sehun thinks, aware that Jongin must be a fair deal younger than his own mid-thirties. Sehun can’t bring himself to care when Jongin is a masterpiece in neutrals sleeping in his bedroom. He wants to lean over and kiss him, so he does, one knee dipping the mattress as Sehun kisses the sculpted bronze of Jongin’s cheekbone. He runs his fingers down Jongin’s arm, watching the way Jongin’s grip on his pillow relaxes a little, leaning back more comfortably into the bed.

Instead of climbing back into bed, waiting for Jongin to wake up, he pads barefoot through his apartment, quiet and careful, in the mind to cook breakfast for Jongin, to wake him with food. It seems something that would appeal to the other, Sehun reasons. His kitchen is as carefully composed as the expensive artwork that dusts his penthouse. He’s used it enough times to count on one hand. Still, he potters around and cooks enough for the two of them, carefully arranging the food on the plates. Jongin meanders into his kitchen just as Sehun is carrying the food to the table in the next room. He’s wearing Sehun’s dressing-gown, too big around the shoulders and sleeves, the silk hanging delicately on Jongin’s frame, belt tied loosely and threating to release. He looks perfect.

He yawns into the sleeve, fingers hidden in a fist of material, and totters forward enough to slump into Sehun’s side, nuzzling into his neck. Sehun freezes before relaxing into the touch, something inside him screams too intimate but he listens to the one that smiles and places the plates on the counter, kissing the pout that Jongin makes at him as he whimpers a quiet, ‘I thought you’d left me.’ Sehun wraps an arm around the new Jongin he’s meeting, sleepy, sweet and insecure completely outshining the sleek, knowing allure he had the night before.

‘No,’ He hums into Jongin’s hair, clumped from sweat and left over wax, ‘I wanted to cook for you.’ Jongin makes a pleased sound and buries himself closer to Sehun, looking over at the plates of food on the counter. Sehun presses a kiss to Jongin’s temple and walks him forward with his hands on the other’s waist. ‘Come on.’ He commands softly, leading Jongin through his apartment. He leads Jongin to the soft cream of his sofa rather than the dining room, letting him rest on the expensive cushions. Jongin makes himself at home, curling up against the back and spreading his legs out.

Sehun leaves him for as long as it takes to retrieve the plates and join him again on the cushions, letting Jongin curl against his side and eat quietly, watching the daytime TV they only just woke in time for. Jongin is too immersed in eating, in watching the chat-show he chose to notice the way Sehun watches him instead, enamoured by the way Jongin’s laugh is more free now, less of drunken giggles and more too-loud barks of amusement that has him colouring slightly afterwards, conscious of the near-silence in the apartment. Sehun finds that the part that protests so much to this sweet gentility is being beaten down by the part of him that tells him that he never really wanted just a one night stand from this boy in the first place.

 

Jongin slips into place in Sehun’s life easily. Sehun takes Jongin on dates, takes him shopping, spoils him with every whim Jongin could possibly fancy. It’s an easy exchange, even if Jongin was shy about taking Sehun’s money as it was thrown at him to begin with. Sehun gets more than he could have possibly wanted from the boy, gets to come home from a day at the office to Jongin lounging across his sofa in boxers and tshirts, whining for pizza rather than a proper meal. Gets the days when he drives to Jongin’s apartment to pick him up and Jongin stumbles down the outside stairs in his rush to meet Sehun at the car, lounging against the door to catch Jongin as he throws himself into Sehun’s arms. He likes to drop Jongin off at his university, or sit with him while he frowns over a pile of homework, painfully young. He feels more than a rush when he feels the way Jongin’s attention is without doubt his, that Jongin enjoys being with Sehun as much as Sehun enjoys being with him. Sehun indulges Jongin everything and loves doing it, because he loves to see Jongin smile and laugh, loves Jongin’s shy presses of kisses when he’s happy, loves showing people that Jongin is completely his.

 

Sehun’s sitting against the headboard of his bed, notebook on his legs and Jongin’s head in his lap, watching him work. He’s organising his own event, an exhibit of the works of art he’s collected in the past year. It’s more of a party than an exhibit really, one he throws every year, a guest list that spreads out the rich of the city, the business associates he needs to keep close, anyone of influence. It’s the type of event people clear their calendars for.

Jongin nuzzles softly into Sehun’s lap, making a sweet, sleepy noise. Sehun’s fingers automatically find their way into Jongin’s hair, stroking down the smooth, un-styled waves at the base of his neck. He’s spread out diagonally, legs tangled in Sehun’s sheets and kicking occasionally, a book lies near his foot that he had tried reading for all of ten minutes before discarding it in favour of Sehun’s lap. He looks so at home in Sehun’s bed -in Sehun’s life- and Sehun is never surprised by how much he feels looking at Jongin.

‘What’s all this for?’ He asks, flicking the page Sehun was looking at without asking, running a finger over a photo that had been glued down by one of the events consultants Sehun was paying to plan for him. He rolls over a little, looking up at Sehun.

‘A party. I’m showing off my art.’ He says, Jongin laughing softly to the ceiling at his answer.

‘Of course you are,’ he’s smiling but there’s an undercurrent to it, something indiscernible in the emotion, ‘Am I invited?’

Sehun looks at him for a moment, and Jongin’s pointedly facing the ceiling, eyebrows slightly furrowed. He can’t help the laugh that escapes, kissing the frown from Jongin’s forehead gently. ‘My beautiful Jongin, of course you’re invited. I was hoping you’d be my date.’ He fingers through Jongin’s hair again, scratching the scalp slightly in the way that makes Jongin close his eyes in pleasure. Moving his planner from his legs, he leans to kiss Jongin, tender brush of lips on lips and doesn’t say that Jongin is perhaps the most beautiful masterpiece he’s ever taken home.

 

Sehun schedules an appointment with his tailor, long enough for two, and brings Jongin with him. Jongin holds his arm as they walk through the door; he’s wearing one of Sehun’s tshirts, an expensive one that he seems to like the most, claims it as his own. It smells more like Jongin’s cologne – the designer one that Sehun bought- than Sehun’s. Sehun feels a little possessive of the way he looks in it. Jongin seems to know because he sends Sehun little knowing looks occasionally as he’s talking to the tailor, licking his lips with a smile.

Sehun visits his tailor enough that he doesn’t have to explain what this suit is for, it’s always the same this time of year. He gets fitted first, standing relaxed as the man slips glasses down his nose and measures the length of Sehun’s outstretched arm. He watches Jongin rather than paying attention to his fitting, watching the way he slumps on the velvet chaise lounge and fiddles with the material by his hand. Jongin has a different personality for Sehun than he does for the rest of the world, one of the things about him that makes Sehun want to lock him close and never let him leave him. Jongin leans back, runs his hands over velvet and grins at Sehun. ‘You should buy one of these.’

‘I’ll buy one if it means you’ll stay to sit on it all day.’ He retorts easily, laughing as Jongin pretends he isn’t a little flustered by the public attention. He steps down from the tailor, letting the man brush imaginary dust from the front of his shirt. ‘I need two suits today,’ He orders, looking to his side to the man, ‘One for him too.’ Jongin steps forward then, passes Sehun with a lingering touch to his arm and taking a stand to be measured.

Sehun takes a seat, ankle on one knee as Jongin spreads his arms. ‘What would suit him best? I want to show him off - no expense spared.’ Jongin looks over a little alarmed, but the tailor just laughs a little awkwardly, looking over his shoulder at Sehun as he drags a measure down Jongin’s leg. ‘He’d look good in anything.’ The man replies, voice tinged with admiration and Jongin smirks but Sehun can see the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. He smirks knowingly in return.

Sehun watches as materials are draped over Jongin’s shoulders, soft silks and cashmeres in different colours and shades. He ends up demanding black, thinking of the way Jongin had looked pressed and sleek the night they had met, devastatingly handsome. He bites his lip and nods at the darkest black offered, stepping forward to rub the material between two fingers. ‘Black looks good on him.’ The tailor says somewhere behind Sehun, and Sehun feels that surge of possessiveness again, eyes flicking to meet Jongin’s, the other watching him carefully. ‘It does.’ Sehun murmurs eventually, running his hand down Jongin’s chest, still clutching the silk.

‘I want 100 percent silk,’ Sehun decides, holding the material out, pressing a kiss to Jongin’s neck, ‘You’ll be stunning.’ He whispers against the skin, smiling when Jongin jerkily grasps his arm.

 

They have champagne on ice in Sehun’s bedroom, suits hanging from the wall in zipped bags, and Jongin lies naked, panting in Sehun’s sheets. Sehun drags a wet cloth down his skin and kisses him languidly, hands roaming across where he cleans. ‘I’ll smell like sex,’ Jongin whines, ‘At the party everyone will know we fucked. They’ll smell it on me.’ He threads his fingers through Sehun’s hair and tugs, little pout on his mouth. Sehun kisses it away, licks across Jongin’s lips and tastes himself on them. ‘Maybe I want them to know.’ He replies, laughing when Jongin bats weakly at his shoulder and whines.

They shower anyway, because they really have plenty of time before they have to leave, Sehun dragging Jongin into the bathroom with him and scrubbing him down, placatingly telling him that all he’ll smell of afterwards is Sehun’s expensive shower gel.

Jongin lets Sehun dress him, standing still so Sehun can button his shirt and kiss his skin as he covers it up; he lets the bowtie hang untied around his neck so he can turn and pour Jongin a glass of champagne. Jongin sips it slowly, laughing slightly as Sehun steps forward to button his own shirt. Jongin crowds into his chest when he’s done, fingers deftly tying his tie for him. He presses a kiss to the rise of skin above the knot of the tie, breathing hot air onto Sehun’s skin in silence. They stand like that, Sehun pressing his fingers into Jongin’s hips and burying his face into the other’s damp hair, breathes in the smell of his own shampoo on Jongin. Jongin’s lips press against his throat once more before the boy tightens his fingers around Sehun’s tie and whispers a quiet, ‘I’m glad I’m yours.’

He steps away after, pink dust down his skin and smiles a little awkwardly at Sehun who stands frozen, stunned. Sehun’s devotion to Jongin was never one sided, but to hear it slip from his lips makes Sehun’s chest feel fit to burst. He catches Jongin by the hand and kisses him, fingers brushing over the other’s knuckles and feeling a smile against his lips.

 

In a fit of muted sentimentality Sehun has the same chauffer as he had when he met Jongin to pick them up. It wasn’t exactly a romantic first meeting, and he doesn’t think Jongin notices, doesn’t think Jongin remembers a lot about that night, but something in him thinks it mildly appropriate. He holds the door for Jongin, lets the boy into the car first with a guiding hand on his waist and then ducks in behind afterwards, closing the door behind himself even though the chauffer is standing to do it for him. The partition is already up, Sehun notes with amusement, and slips his hand onto Jongin’s thigh.

He looks breath-taking, always does, but the effort of tonight makes him more so. His hair isn’t as heavily waxed, but it’s swept back from his face, highlighting his facial structure and the bronze of skin, tanned from the summer sun. He leans back against the leather seats to slump sideways into Sehun’s side, head on Sehun’s shoulder without thinking of ruining his hair. He nuzzles his face into the material of Sehun’s suit, before he looks up through his eyelashes. ‘You stare at me a lot you know.’ He says, knocking his ankle against Sehun’s.

‘You’re nice to look at.’ Sehun replies, looking forward because he knows Jongin’s probably frowning at the response.

‘That’s not the only reason that you…’ He trails off for a moment, shifts awkwardly against Sehun’s side and clears his throat before he finishes, ‘keep me, right?’

Sehun can feel his stomach clench, kind of wants a drink. Jongin sounds small, unsure, and he lets Sehun see this side of him so often that Sehun kind of forgets that it’s not a ploy to get him into bed. This sounds brutally real though, Jongin’s genuine emotion, so he turns so he can cup the boy’s cheek and look him in the eye. He kisses his cheekbone affectionately and lays their cheeks together for a moment before pulling away. ‘Jongin you are so much more to me than a pretty face. You’re perfect to me, always have been.’

Maybe it’s not what Jongin wants to hear, Sehun can never tell, never been good with words when they’re meant capture his emotions. Jongin looks at him, searchingly, eyes darting between his and then he lets out a little embarrassed laugh, dropping his head to Sehun’s shoulder. ‘That was cheesy wasn’t it?’ Sehun says, scraping his nails through the short, shaved hair at the back of Jongin’s head. Jongin nods and laughs again, and Sehun laughs with him, pleased and overwhelmingly in love.

 

Sehun steps out of the car first, door held open for him. There’s a few guests outside the building, watching as Sehun turns and takes Jongin’s hand, helping him out the car. Jongin blushes a little, but no one would notice with the way he’s suddenly the boy from the first night, casual confidence and knowing smirks. Except now, when Sehun walks into the building, it’s with an arm around Jongin’s waist and the confident knowledge he is his.

At first they’re left alone to look at the art that hangs on the walls, pieces Sehun spent millions on, little lights curving and illuminating them from above. He guides Jongin around, whispers the name and artist of each piece directly into his ear to see the way he barely represses shudders at the proximity. There’s pieces hung up that Sehun had to fight for, bid for what felt like hours into figures that spanned into the obscene. Pieces that had been Sehun’s ultimate pride.

Now, he doesn’t even glance at them, whispers their titles but watches Jongin, watches every breath that raises his chest, every swirl of air conditioning that ruffles his hair. He’s personified perfection, casting Sehun knowingly little glances every time he catches the elder staring at him.

They don’t make it the full way around the circuit of art hanging on the walls before a woman ushers them over to talk. Sehun doesn’t even care that there’s more art to see, not with the way he can feel the stares on Jongin, the way people admire him more than any canvas on the wall. His arm tightens on the younger’s waist in subtle possession, but his smirk is smug, proud.

Jongin is temptation, suit dark and cutting lines across his skin, practically shining in the light. He swirls champagne casually, chatting with the people that naturally drag over, aiming for Sehun but focusing on Jongin. Sehun watches him and compares the boy in the car to the one that smirks as one woman drags her finger across the silk of his lapel, muttering how he looks charming. Jongin slips so easily into the crowd of filthy rich that Sehun would believe he was one if he didn’t know better.

 

It takes hours, but when they get back to Sehun’s apartment he’s shockingly sober, Jongin giggling as he struts ahead of him. He’s the type of person who drinks a little and starts taking off their clothes, and Sehun watches from the door as Jongin starts unbuttoning his shirt, bowtie lost somewhere between the party and the apartment.

He turns around and gives Sehun one of those smiles, beckoning him over with a crook of his finger. ‘You’re so handsome.’ He mutters, Sehun laughing at the irony of Jongin complementing him. Sehun can count on one hand the amount the other’s had to drink, knows he’s not had nearly enough to be drunk, but perhaps a little inebriated. Still it’s charming, the way Jongin giggles and opens his shirt to his collar bones. Sehun watches him with a gentle smile and thinks again that he is so in love with Jongin.

The only lighting in the room is a dim lamp and the lights of the city shining from the glass wall of Sehun’s living room. It lights Jongin from behind, casting pinks and oranges over his skin, glistening over the slight sheen of sweat already on his skin. His hair has flopped a little, sticking to the nape of his neck. He’s beautiful. Sehun wants to repeat it over and over until it’s engrained on Jongin’s skin; beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Instead, he kisses him, softly, cupping his jaw and stroking his thumbs along the skin there, trying to speak in his actions. Jongin brings his arms up to hang them loosely over his shoulders, leans back and looks at Sehun with his dark, dark eyes and sheer affection and for the first time he mutters, ‘I love you.’ Sehun kisses him again, drags his fingers to press into the skin of Jongin’s throat. He breaks away with a sob of a breath, holding Jongin’s face to look at him, running his thumbs under Jongin’s eyes. ‘I love you too, Jongin.’ He breathes, suddenly feeling lighter.

They stumble backwards, falling into Sehun’s bedroom, or, he supposes, their bedroom. He pushes Jongin to the bed, tumbling with him, mouths barely leaving each other. ‘Off,’ Jongin pants as he tears his mouth from Sehun’s, clutching at his open shirt like he’ll be able to rip it from his body, before yanking Sehun’s tie from his neck, throwing it across the room, ‘Take it all off, Sehun.’

Sehun laughs breathlessly, pressing kisses to Jongin’s neck, tongue slipping out to lick the taste of sweat and expensive cologne from his skin. Jongin presses his fingers into Sehun’s hair, clutches it and breathes shuddering breaths when Sehun sucks bruises into the skin, marking him, a signature on a masterpiece.  
He peels the shirt from Jongin’s body, slowly, button by button, and swats Jongin’s hands away when he tries to make him go faster. He wants to relearn every muscle of the boy, wants to feel him beneath his palms, his tongue. Sehun dips his head and takes a nipple between his lips, revelling in the unsteady gasp  
Jongin lets out, legs spreading like a reflex across the sheet.

His shirt hangs open, limp at his side, like wings of a statue spread beneath him. He leans forward enough for Sehun to pull the shirt from his shoulders, rid him entirely of it, and drag his curious hands down the muscle of Jongin’s arms, link their fingers together as he skates over hands.

Jongin is panting, little irregular gasps of breath that Sehun loves, enough that when he kisses Jongin he does so teasingly, sparingly, so his lips can’t mute the sweet noises. Sehun sucks bruises into the skin of Jongin’s hips, scatters them up his chest, creating constellations, and when he reaches the dips of collarbones, Sehun rests his cheek there and whispers, ‘Stunning.’

The tailored trousers on Jongin’s legs slip off with a deliberate tug of Sehun’s hands, pulling them down and dropping them off the side of the bed. Jongin’s legs are still tanned, skin taught over the toned muscles that flex as Sehun holds his foot to kiss his ankle, tongue laving over the skin, watching the way Jongin presses his head back and grasps the pillow behind him. There’s a pool of precome dripping onto his belly, erection curling upwards, pretty red. Sehun had let Jongin go without underwear to the party.

He bites the flesh of Jongin’s thigh, presses his hands into them and kneads the muscles, the thickness of his legs. Jongin’s thighs are one of Sehun’s favourite things about him, so he spends extra time with his head between them, licking little patterns onto him, biting down and leaving marks. He presses his fingers in until the skin goes white around his nails, little crescent moons.

The way Jongin thrashes in Sehun’s grasp is thrilling, Jongin bucking his hips into nothing. He’s wound up, Sehun knows, always gets too high strung when he’s been drinking. It’s not surprising that when Sehun fits his lips over the tip of Jongin’s dick and sucks hard, once, he comes. Sehun swallows, licks his lips and licks any that he missed from dribbling down Jongin’s oversensitive dick.

Jongin’s blushing when Sehun looks up, skin red across his cheeks flushed right down his chest. He looks close to mortified when Sehun smiles, and leans forward to kiss him, hand reaching for lube from the pillow beneath them. It’s cool as it drips down his fingers, Sehun rubs it a little to heat it before dragging a sticky line down Jongin’s chest, circling his navel and pressing kisses to his neck.

The elder leans back, on his knees between Jongin’s legs, wiping lube down Jongin’s balls. Jongin catches the backs of his knees and spreads himself open, turning his face away from Sehun as he does so because he always gets stupidly embarrassed about baring himself. Sehun kisses down his thighs once more, licking between Jongin’s legs, sucking lightly on his balls before dragging his tongue down the cleft of Jongin’s ass.

Beneath his hands, Jongin’s whole body is shaking. He look s up as he circles the other’s rim with his tongue, and Jongin is watching him, hand on his dick stroking it in a loose fist, mindful of his oversensitive skin. Sehun tucks his tongue into Jongin, stuffs his slick finger along with it and crooks it searchingly instantly, tongue slipping in and out in an imitation of fucking.

Jongin opens up so easily on his fingers, hole never really tight from being fucked earlier. Sehun loves it though, loves that Jongin is still loose for him, always ready. He presses the lubed head of his dick against Jongin’s entrance and waits for the boy to beg, rubbing it teasingly against the pink of his hole and pinching one of Jongin’s nipple’s stiff between his fingers. ‘Sehun,’ Jongin tries, hand letting go of one of his legs to grab Sehun’s hair, pulling him forward to kiss, ‘Sehun fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t walk. I want you so badly.’

Sehun pushes in in one smooth roll of his hips, and he gasps against Jongin’s lips, the other breathing so heavily he’s sure he’s breathing his breath rather than air. He fucks Jongin slowly, pulling out to just the crown of his dick and aiming for his prostate every time, strong thrusts hitting it and making Jongin groan. He’s so stunning like this, spread open and slick with sweat, eyes closed and hair sticking to his forehead. His chest heaves unevenly, stomach clenched as he tries not to come again before Sehun’s done.

It takes nothing more than a few thrusts, Sehun’s hand joining Jongin’s fist on his dick for him to come a second time, clenching beautifully around Sehun, and moaning brokenly into the sticky air of the room. His thighs clamp around Sehun’s waist and Sehun thrusts through Jongin’s orgasm shallowly, before coming himself, holding Jongin’s thighs as he empties inside, moving slowly and carefully.

Jongin’s nearly asleep by the time Sehun pulls out and lowers himself beside him. They’re both sticky but Jongin doesn’t seem to mind the mess on his stomach, the come leaking down between his thighs. He mumbles softly and curls up against Sehun, smiles dozily as Sehun kisses his eyelids and wipes sweaty hair from his face.

Jongin is art, he thinks. The most valuable piece of art he’ll ever own.


End file.
